


Through Boldness Into The Unknown

by ussdisco



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universes, Angst, Angsty At The Beginning But It Gets Better Fast, Fandoms Collide, Fluff and Angst, Humor, Kissing, M/M, Shenanigans, The AOS x Discovery Interaction Fest Everyone Was Waiting For, post mid-season finale
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2018-01-09
Packaged: 2019-02-26 13:41:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13236912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ussdisco/pseuds/ussdisco
Summary: 'I'm afraid I don’t know where we are, Captain,' he said, sounding breathless. 'The ship’s sensors won’t work even after running the diagnostic sequences, and I can’t seem to map our location based on the stars we are currently surrounded by. We are not in Starfleet territory.'In which the USS Discovery finds itself stranded in an unknown location with a limited power supply and a desperate need to get back home.





	1. I

**I - USS Discovery; Stardate 2136.8**

 

It had been less than an hour. Saru stood in front of his station, his fingers twitching restlessly on the console. The vastness of space loomed large before his eyes. The slight shimmer of the Klingon wreckage, that laid just a few kilometers from the Discovery, sent shivers down his spine. He opened the quadrant map on his screen, and their unknown coordinates were there, almost a reproach for even trying to assess their location. He sighed heavily, and tried to direct a convincing look towards his captain.

 

'I'm afraid I don’t know where we are, Captain,' he said, sounding breathless. 'The ship’s sensors won’t work even after running the diagnostic sequences, and I can’t seem to map our location based on the stars we are currently surrounded by. We are not in Starfleet territory.'

 

Across the bridge, Lieutenant Owosekun looked stunned. She tried to punch a few more buttons, run a few more debugging protocols- both to no avail. The young lieutenant paused for a moment and turned around to face the Captain, but not before pointlessly checking the data once more. 'Captain’ she said,  ‘There has been considerable damage to the ship’s hull, but we are holding steadily.' 'I suggest we jump away from the wreckage. For all we know we may be somewhere in Klingon space.'

 

'Redirect power to engineering, I want us out of here,' Lorca spoke shortly. He paced heavily around the small space of the bridge, barking orders that he knew deep within himself were useless.

 

Lorca mused in the resounding silence that filled the room. This was not what he had planned. 

 

Lorca did not say much apart from the stern orders directed to his crew. His tone was not much of anger, but of trepidation. He had led Stamets to believe that what he had showed him was concrete evidence of numerous alternate universes. An idea so far-fetched that he could easily blame it on the lack of lucidity of the chief engineer, if his plan of escaping Federation space did not succeed.

 

What he had not foreseen was the apparent inability to easily return to where they had jumped from.

 

'Mr. Saru, is the spore drive back online?' Lorca asked, steering himself away from the First Officer's screen and back to his spot overlooking the bridge. They had not been able to contact engineering since the ill-fated jump due to the due to power fluctuations. All power had been directed to the bridge in order to stabilize vital navigation controls.

 

'We seem to be able to contact engineering,' Saru said tactfully, lightly touching his neck as if checking if his panic was physically evident to the captain. 'There is not enough power to engage the drive, however.'

 

'Put me through to Lieutenant Stamets,' Lorca said, sitting down heavily on his chair. 'I need him here if we are going to make out of whatever hellhole he dragged us into.'

 

'Aye, sir.'

 

Saru pressed a few more buttons and a heavy static noise echoed through the audio channel. 'Bridge to Engineering, this is First Officer Saru. Lieutenant Stamets, please report to the bridge.'

 

'….'

 

The heavy clicks of static echoed once more. Along the bridge, the small team of officers glanced at each other, silently asking the question no one was ready to voice.

 

_ What was happening? _

 

Lorca lolled back in his seat, eyes staring straight ahead. He was sure that the faces of his officers expressed nothing but worry or fear, or a mix of both. Even though he could not distinguish their faces clearly, Lorca had been in enough dire situations aboard the Buran to know what long stretches of silence meant. The Discovery could be far from apparent immediate danger, but the uncertainty of the situation could compromise the team's efficiency should combat be necessary. The Captain needed to act fast, and in the process make sure that his stern mask of indifference pointed that the situation would not escape his control.

 

'Bridge to Engineering,' Saru said one more, his pronunciation more clipped this time. He looked at the Captain from over his console, as if expecting Lorca to somehow assess the situation. 'This is First Officer Saru. Lieutenant Stamets, please report to the bridge.'

 

Seconds passed. Lorca settled into the chair, ready to assign someone to go down to engineering when quick murmurs took over the audio channel. They were indistinguishable at first, but after a few seconds the slightly strident voice of that one redheaded cadet became clearer.

 

What was her name again?

 

_ 'Lieu….Sta……..s…..Un…..ponsive' _

 

It was a jumble of words. The volume of the transmission fluctuated and so did his heartbeat, when suddenly the cadet’s desperate breaths filled the bridge.

 

_ 'Our comms are down! Lieutenant Stamets is unresponsive. I repeat, Lieutenant Stamets is unresponsive. He collapsed outside the spore chamber after the jump, Doctor Culber is addressing the situation but we need emergency personnel here now.'' _

 

The bridge crew looked at each other, sporting the same look of concern. They knew what was at stake when it came to the Chief Engineer’s ability to perform his duties. Stamets’ life was now one of the many priorities the Discovery crew had, and if they were indeed stranded in uncharted territory, he was their only ticket out.

 

'What are you all waiting for?' Lorca said. 'Get medical down there. Saru, you come with me. Owosekun, you have the conn.'

 

'Aye, s-sir'

 

**— — — —**

 

Doctor Culber’s entire body flushed hot, blood burning. The speed of his movements never slowing down, nor his attention to detail. 'No apparent sign of concussion,' he murmured, threading fingers through Stamets’ hair as he lifted said man’s face from the floor. There was no blood, something that was painfully clear from the cold emanating from the pale man’s body. Culber moved the tricorder frantically along Stamets’ body, as if wanting to prove to himself that the man was indeed alive. The readings gave the same results as the previous three times.

 

Tilly flinched, hard, when the doctor let out another painful groan of frustration, his guttural voice emanating across the chamber.

 

He didn’t let go of Stamets’ hands once.

 

'Administrating 3mg of Lorazepam for catatonic stupor,' he whispered to himself, trying to uphold professionalism by uttering directions to the group of absent nurses who should be there, aiding his lover. Tilly took an audible breath to steady herself, and repeated her words into the communicator once more. It seemed that hours had passed, each tick of seconds marked by the doctor's fast heartbeat.

 

Suddenly the doors to engineering were opened. A team of nurses clad in pristine uniforms dashed through the staircase, tricorders in hand. The CMO followed closely behind, barking orders with a look of concern. Culber tried to distance himself from the thought that the figure lying motionless on his lap was his partner. His mind was still too dazed to comprehend what had happened.

 

The doctor watched in mute horror as Stamets was put on a stretcher, the engineer's pale arms standing out in stark contrast to his dark blue uniform. The CMO repeated the standard procedures carried out minutes before. Stamets’ eyes were staring at the ceiling, dull and glassy as the CMO tried to expose his cornea to light, to no avail.

 

'It seems that he is in some sort of stu-

 

'Catatonic stupor, yes. He has not responded to any physical stimuli since his collapse. I administered the standard dose of Benzodiazepine as described by the Starfleet medical guide. Cadet Tilly and I have given him Oxygen-' Culber said, blinking rapidly, inadvertently trying to collect himself. 'Lieutenant Stamets has remained unresponsive. He is alive, although barely.'

 

The CMO stood next to the man Culber had his eyes fixated on, and looked up at the doctor, her expression devastated.

 

'I'm terribly sorry, Hugh.' she said, holding his arm.

 

Of course she was. Her furrowed dark brows and strong grip left no room for questioning. It was one of the many perks of serving under a Betazoid, he thought. They would never act deceitfully. For once, he wished for a well rehearsed look of false optimism.

 

There was a quiet lull, wherein the hushed exchanges between nurses could be heard from the distance the CMO had put between them and Stamets’ body.

 

'Sha’rhil,’ Culber started, ‘I know I don’t have to ask you this. But I want you to give everything you’ve got-'

 

'Hugh of course I-'

 

_ 'I won’t lose him.' _

 

The dark haired woman made a low noise of understanding. Her gaze once more dropped to Stamets’ motionless figure. 'Emergency transport to sickbay. Seven people.'

 

Light twirled around them, and Culber bit his lip at the thought that his lover couldn’t watch the atoms dance before their eyes.

 

**— — — —**

 

“Make sure no one else enters” Lorca said, turning on his heel and walking down that corridor that led into the med-bay. Saru’s lanky figure was closely behind, his adapted boots clicking against the sturdy metal floor.

 

The captain dashed between the array of empty beds, making his way to the far corner of the med-bay. Sha’rhil held a PADD in her hands, taking quick notes with a stylus. The graceful movements of her long fingers made the mundane action seem like rehearsed choreography.

 

Sha’rhil had never liked dealing with the aftermath of a life-or-death situation. Granted, it was unlikely many people did, but for her it was different.

 

Feeling others’ emotions was stifling, uncomfortable and a constant reminder that regardless of what she did and how many she saved, there would always be pain looming over the patients that didn’t have so much luck. Sha’rhil was never able to feel at ease anymore, not since the war had began. Sometimes it felt as if she was floating, nothing between her and the unbearable pain milling around inside the ship. To help, she had built up shields, coping mechanisms. Her schedule was altered so most of her work could be done during Gamma shift, when only junior officers were awake. This gave her breathing space to work somewhat adequately, as dreams were easier to suppress. Of course, there was no such thing as carrying a static schedule as a doctor, especially as the Chief Medical Officer. There were instances where she would be awaken by a nurse two hours into her sleep and rushed to sickbay. 

 

Sha’rhil had not foreseen any of this. The piercing screams and the blood that refused to wash off her uniform. When she was assigned to the Discovery, a science vessel, the idea of solitude and a lab of her own delayed the ambitious project of opening a clinic on Alpha Centauri. She was barely forty, and while most would say it was time to take some leadership position at a Starbase, Sha’rhil knew deep in her heart she was not a woman of bureaucracy.

 

It was supposed to be her last mission. The last farewell to the stars that had inspired her to go further and search for those who yearned for comfort.

 

She didn’t know she would fail in providing it.

 

The CMO could feel the heavy aura emanating from Culber’s crouched figure. He was staring fixedly at Stamets, the soft beeping of the heart monitor the only sound coming from the bed. There were a lot of emotions. Pain, regret, hurt, anger, desperation. A hurricane of thoughts clouded Culber's mind. The thoroughness of his sorrow hit the Betazoid like a punch in the gut. 

 

She regretted not being able to take the pain away.

 

Noticing her arrival, Culber turned around. They stared for too long, unspoken words and feelings passing between them. She squeezed the doctor’s arm once more, as if reassuring herself that at least Stamets was still alive.

 

She let out a long sigh, her shoulders dropping. 'The Captain is here. I have briefed him on the situation. He insists on seeing Stamets.'

 

'I’m not leaving.'

 

'I told him that.'

 

Silence filled the room, the soft beeping of the heart monitor once again making the situation painfully real. Culber frowned, looking down at his lover’s body.

 

He got a thrill from the difficult cases, from the delicate surgeries. He couldn't go without it, unlike many others who could. Hugh liked to think his passion for medicine wasn’t based solemnly on the responsibility it entailed, but rather on the old-fashioned love he nurtured for being able to save beings. To save  _ people _ .

 

The blood on his uniform after the end of a shift wasn’t gratifying, nor were the pained screams that insisted on echoing through his ears late at night. But if he could save someone,  _ anyone _ , in the midst of the bloodbath that was called the Klingon War, then it should be enough.

 

But it wasn’t.

 

Footsteps moved closer from the far side of the medbay, and soon enough the curtains that separated Stamets’ bed from the rest of sickbay were hastily pulled open.

 

'Alright, so what exactly is going on here?' Lorca’s raspy broke the silence. The captain had his arms crossed, and was staring at the two occupants of the room. It was so blunt Saru winced, sharp eyes leaving Lorca to stare at Sha’rhil, silently begging her for a quick answer.

 

The CMO stiffened, assuming a professional stance with a PADD in hands. 'There is much we still don’t know,' she said, studying Lorca closely. 'It is too early to tell exactly what we are dealing with, but from what we’ve gathered he has suffered a severe traumatic brain injury. Doctor Culber has briefed me on Lieutenant Stamets’ particularities. Apparently he had been suffering from a process of restructuring in his temporal lobe. That is quite a red flag in itself as it may lead to memory loss, motor degeneration and leaves him more prone to internal bleeding. His CT scan shows a series of cerebral contusions on his temporal lobe, as well as subdural hematomas here,” — she pointed at the bright screen above the patient’s bed — “Here, and also here. Doctor Culber managed to run a few preliminary tests before Lieutenant Stamets lost consciousness. The patient didn’t respond to sensory stimulation and appeared to show Anisocoria-’

 

'Which mea-’

 

'His eyes wouldn’t move. His pupils dilated to different degrees when exposed to light. His state of catatonia is a sign of focal neurologic lesions. In theory we could treat him for his brain trauma, but it is too much of a gamble to do so right now. We need time to study what exactly is going on his temporal lobe, or else we risk seriously damaging his brain.'

 

Lorca halted for a moment to think the words over. He chewed on his lip for a few seconds. 'Do whatever you have to, I want him back. Fast.' He glanced up over the lab report with Stamets’ brain scans to give the CMO a stern gaze. 'We need to be ready to jump as soon as we can. Do you understand?'

 

Saru remained silent. Beyond his concerned frowns, he had nothing to add.

 

Sha’rhil took a deep breath through her nose, furrowing her brows in what should’ve been an aggressive expression, but came out more like a grimace. 'Yes, sir.'

 

Culber, sat next to the bed, and somehow managed to keep his mouth shut. He paused for a moment to think the Sha’rhil's words over. She had said everything, there was no need to reiterate the obvious. He definitely was not in his right mind to go over the risks and medical technicalities of the case, let alone discuss Stamets’ likelihood of survival as if he were Lorca’s personal butcher. The doctor tried to avoid the captain’s stare, knowing fully how his superior intended to pressure him into blurting something,  _ anything _ , that could speed up the results.

 

Just like he enjoyed doing with Stamets.

 

Lorca glanced between Sha’rhil and Culber before turning on his heel, but not without throwing one last gaze toward Stamets.

 

For the first time since the captain had entered the room, Hugh looked up, only to see Saru’s threat ganglia extending as he jogged to reach Lorca’s fast pace.

 

**— — — —**

  
  


Cadet Sylvia Tilly was sitting at her station in Engineering, her eyes flickering between the spore drive and the mess that was left behind by the medical team. Her expression was blank, and so was her mind. She had not gone to sickbay. Stamets’ condition was severe, which meant medical had other priorities than ensuring his motionless body had company.

 

How had it happened?

 

‘Prickly’ was one of the words that were often associated with Stamets’ outspoken personality. Angry. Inpatient. He had joined Starfleet because of awe. He loved the thrill of a science discovery, the puzzles that often came with a theory to be tested. He wasn't kind, Tilly had noticed, at least not how most people perceived kindness to be.

 

Paul Stamets had his quirks, and a short list of things that made him tick. He’d spend hours on end locked inside the spore chamber, a handful of PADDs on one hand and a tech device in the other.

 

It was always obvious, even from where Tilly normally stood on the other side of engineering, that Stamets derived immense pleasure from his work. In his lifetime of dedication to science, Stamets had been successful. Ridiculously so. Yet not once had he claimed to be anything above ‘just another scientist’, even if he made clear, repeatedly, that he was indeed brilliant.

 

The chief engineer despised the thought of science being used as a bargaining chip during the war. Tilly had noticed on the span of their mission how his frustration accumulated, the dents on the edge of his station (from one too many a frustrated outbreak) a reminder of particularly stressful days trying to pull off orders given by Lorca. He had found himself in science and nature, and now he was lost at the new meaning his research had been given. At first Stamets had believed his co-opting with Straal would be temporary, the sudden overwhelming amount of work made bearable by Hugh's presence in their quarters after a long shift. But weeks turned into months, and the need for a faster, more advanced navigation system made him a essential part of the crew. If everything he had dedicated himself to was only relevant to spur the bloodbath further, then what was the point?

 

The tech they had found on the Glenn gave Stamets something else to concentrate on than the anguish within him. He knew that, no matter how much he tried to deny, he had no other choice. If he didn't agree to weaponize the very research he had helped bring to life, the ship would be in danger. _ Hugh would be in danger. _

 

Stamets had resisted Lorca’s demands to weaponize his research in the beginning. The threats hadn’t done anything to him at first. He didn’t care about his image, nor his reputation. His success rate spoke enough about him. But as shifts went on and the perils of Klingon attacks became more real, the chief engineer realized what was really on the line.

 

Tilly had known a few weeks into her new job at the Discovery. It wasn’t a secret, nor something that figured on the hushed debates at the back of the mess hall during lunch time. The cadet was just surprised that the grumpy man, so focused on making sure his mushrooms received the exact amount of UV emissions, could spare time for such mundane affairs.

 

The Cadet had walked into them one time, at the very end of Gamma shift. She’d been nestled down at the end of the cultivation bay, slowly picking a few specimens Stamets had asked for. A few moments later, there were footsteps, and someone appeared to have entered the large atrium that made up engineering.

 

She drew in a sharp breath, her hands shaking slightly as she held the sturdy metal case that contained the large stash of mushrooms. It was only her first month on duty, and Tilly wanted to make sure her presence was never less-than-appropriate. Even if it meant walking around with a very stiffened posture until the end of the shift.

 

Tilly made her way out, briskly pacing towards her station. She typed a few notes into her computer, when the sound of a light chuckle made her chance a look at the opposite side of the room.

 

Apparently the mysterious visitor had been Doctor Culber, a happy intrusion if you asked Tilly. The tall man did not visit engineering often, obviously not being a common task in a doctor's routine. On the rare occasion he did, however, it was as if the growing concerns of the chief engineer were suddenly lifted.

 

Engineering had plenty of space to move around in, yet it seemed like Doctor Culber and Stamets were always too close even when they were on opposite ends of the room. The doctor murmured a few unintelligible words, pointing at his PADD. It was probably not something related to work, judging by the happy twitch to the engineer’s pale lips. Eventually Culber turned on his heel, bidding Tilly a quick goodbye with a wave of his left hand.

 

Stamets was obviously tired, dragging his feet over the steps that lead the way back to the ship’s maze of hallways. He was distractedly talking to the doctor, their hushed breaths indistinguishable due to their distance. Abruptly, the blond man lost his balance, his reflexes visibly affected by his lack of sleep. Stamets’ center of gravity tilted backwards as he tried to grip on the doctor’s uniform, but Culber moved fast. He swiftly stretched his arm around the pale man’s waist, his other hand holding tightly onto the handrail. Culber held Stamets in place, slowly steading the former back into his feet. The scene seemed to stretch for hours, until Stamets let out a painfully fake coughing fit.

 

The scientists’ eyes were wide. 'So, well, see you soon?' he said, straightening his uniform.

 

Culber grinned suddenly, peals of laughter echoing through the room. 'Yeah, sure. Just make sure to get to our room at a decent hour.'

 

'Yes,  _ fine. _ '

 

There was still the prickliness, the snark; only now it had a layer of adoration and affection, one she’d never seen before in the engineer’s eyes. There was no one else in the engineering except her and the lonely mushrooms in the cultivation bay. Tilly averted her gaze from the two men, but not before witnessing Culber give a short peck on Stamets’ lips.

 

A small smile had clad Tilly’s face back then as her focus drifted upward from the specimens neatly arranged on her desk to the now much more relaxed stance of the chief engineer’s back.

 

Hugh Culber’s life wasn’t a gamble Paul was willing to take.

 

The resonating sound of the spore drive broke Tilly from her reverie. The navigation sequence hadn't been completed, meaning the computer was now trying to calculate the remaining trajectory by itself.

 

WARNING: DRIVE OVERLOAD IMMINENT.

 

Tilly released a shaky gasp, wiping the tears that clad her face. They had to find a workaround. They would find a workaround. She had remained silent when medical came in, ashamed of her actions. How could she have not seen this coming? The chief engineer had shown clear signs of extenuation, his stance visibly shaky every time they loaded the spore drive. Tilly tried telling herself that she was only following orders, but she knew that was a cheap excuse for what had happened. He shouldn't've sacrificed himself for the tardigrade, he shouldn't have agreed to the 133 jumps.

 

More importantly, she shouldn't have complied to his orders.

 

Right now, however, there wasn’t time for pity. Tilly pressed her mouth shut, holding in the hiccups rising from the back of her throat. She dragged herself to Stamets’ station sluggishly, shrugging slowly as she tucked away the devices that were laying on the table. She put the tools away, and started working on code sequences to halt the computer’s loop calculations.

 

_ Warning: Drive overload imminent. Resume calculations. _

 

Surprised her attempt didn’t work, Tilly went through the line of code once more, squinting at the numbers as if they would solve themselves spontaneously. Muscle memory kicked in, and she began to punch numbers on the large keyboard that still had smudges of Stamets’ fingerprints.

 

The cadet looked up to track her gaze through the different screens displayed before her. 'What is this?' the cadet murmured, intrigued as one specific section of code seemed detached from the rest. She tried to crack it, using her usual key number.

 

JUMP SEQUENCE DATA - CLASSIFIED

 

_ What? _

 

Tilly was aware of the complications of serving on the Discovery, and more specifically, under Lorca. The captain had no time for poor results or second-guesses. That much was obvious from the way he always made sure to pressure the engineering crew to work almost inhumanly fast, brandishing about how they were  _ fighting a war _ .

 

But Stamets was never one to keep secrets from her, not when it came to what he did as an engineer for Starfleet. In the past, whenever Tilly would find herself puzzled by some bureaucratic ruling imposed by Starfleet, the chief engineer would always be there, musing on the appropriacy of bypassing a few regulations. These memories now only served to make the cadet feel worse, as she recalled when they had tried to find a substitute for the tardigrade. Tilly had suggested they accessed the classified Daystrom Institute database. She’d only done so because Stamets himself had mentioned it to her a couple weeks prior.

 

There were no such things as secrets.

 

Tilly ran her tongue through her teeth. This couldn’t be right, it didn’t make sense. She rubbed the heel of her palm over her cheeks before quickly placing her hands back on the keyboard. It felt weird, not being able to make anything of the numbers she was seeing. That was usually her domain.

 

She exhaled and nodded to herself. Tilly was reluctant, although she knew that was her last resort. Hesitant, she typed Stamets’ system key, watching in bewilderment as the computer’s interface restructured itself to show a handful of tools she’d never seen before.

 

They would stay awake all night, way past the end of their shifts. One by one, the other cadets would leave engineering, the weight of a long shift evident in their stances. A slicked back of red curly hair would always linger for a few more hours at the back of the cultivation bay. Even when Stamets insisted on being left alone, Tilly wouldn’t allow herself any time to waste, not when she could be helping someone else. Especially if that someone was the person who she looked up to the most. Stamets pretended not to notice, one part of him wondering why the other part found the cadet’s actions welcome. He didn’t enjoy company, let alone  _ lurkers _ , but there was something genuine about Tilly’s quirky ways of being helpful. He lavished on the thought that perhaps, just  _ perhaps _ , there was someone who could be of actual help.

 

One day, as they were dimming the lights and locking the doors, Stamets had slipped his access key to her computer. There was no need to clarify why. She’d saved the numbers quickly, before the chief engineer changed his mind. He knew that one day, he might need someone on his side.

 

Tilly narrowed her eyes, slowly going through the extensive navigation sequence. She simmered with anxiety, yet never ceased to methodically unravel the code displayed before her, line by line.

 

The cadet closed her hands, elbow resting against her body as she came across a line that stood out from the rest. She looked closer, her frown deepening further.

 

SPORE-JUMP 117: 071-MARK-631

SPORE-JUMP 118: 071-MARK-146

SPORE-JUMP 119: 071-MARK-643

……….

……….

SPORE-JUMP 129: 071-MARK-132

SPORE-JUMP 130: 071-MARK-743

……….

……….

**OVERRIDE: LORCA, G.-MARK-UNKNOWN**

 

It took a total of ten seconds for Tilly to register what she had just read. She looked over the words, her hands shaking with apprehension and worry. The override had been put through less than an hour ago.

 

_ 'After this jump I’ll have a lot of free time in my hands.' _

 

She had no idea what to think, nor how to proceed. Her body stiffened immediately, a choked gasp working its way from her throat. Everything seemed to have gone quiet, the beeping of the spore drive now sounding like it was miles away. The moment stretched as she checked the data, one, twice, three times until the glaring yellow letters became almost etched into her brain.

 

It had been deliberate.

  
_ 'Engineering to medical, this is Cadet Sylvia Tilly. It's about Lieutenant Stamets. Patch me through to Doctor Culber,  _ **_now.'_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, and welcome to my crib.
> 
> I - This fic is set immediately after the events of episode 9 ("Into The Forest I Go"), just clearing this up in case anyone got confused. 
> 
> II - Huge thanks for my amazing beta and synonyms connoisseur, Jim Jam!! I couldn't have done this without you and your salmon-slapping. You rock.
> 
> III - Also thanks to Nat and Nath (lol) for holding my hands as I cried trying to make any sense of this plotline.


	2. II

After their quick trip to the medical bay, the Captain and Saru exchanged only a few words. They moved from the hallway into the turbo lift, neither of them bothering to voice their unanswered question.

 

_How would they get out of this?_

 

Saru gasped awkwardly, desperately trying to conceal the way his threat ganglia insisted on extending. He straightened his uniform, as if trying to uphold a degree of seriousness.

 

'Captain, given Lieutenant Stamets’ current comatose state and knowing that we have no feasible substitute for now, how are we going back to federation space?' The Kelpien asked quietly, twitching his fingers under Lorca’s stern gaze.

 

It was obvious that Saru was digesting the situation slowly. He was dumbfounded at first, visibly thrown off by his own failure to thoroughly assess the situation. Deep in himself, Saru believed that whatever had thrown the Discovery off its trajectory would be a problem solved swiftly, especially given how packed the ship was with intellectual outliers such as Stamets and Burnham. Yet, whilst he stood in sickbay staring aimlessly at the sterile walls, he realized that he could not look away from the pain that unfolded before him, nor he could escape the consequences that would befall him and the rest of the crew.

 

He valued his job. He valued the thought that, despite eventual hiccups, his end goal was to save innocent lives and spare the universe from conflict. He had to concede, however, as he cast a hesitant gaze to Culber’s stiff figure, that he left too much on others’ hands. He knew what his duty as First Officer entailed and the responsibility that rendered in difficult choices. Perhaps the reason why he’d deferred to the computer for aid when he’d suddenly turned into acting captain was because he lacked one key feature.

 

Leadership.

 

He had briefly looked at Stamets as they passed on the stairs in engineering, the pale man’s features downcast as he walked to his station. The plan was madness- he knew it. He _felt_ it. Yet he did nothing as they received the transmission saying the chief engineer was ‘safely' attached to the spore chamber.

 

Ultimately, his actions came down to what the Captain said. That much was given. Saru had never, even for a split second, considered doing anything that remotely resembled Burnham’s actions on that fateful day on the Shenzhou. Nevertheless, while he was touched (for lack of a better word) by Lorca’s drive to protect Pahvo, Saru was thrown by the Captain’s means of dragging Stamets into his plan. The First Officer had felt odd in the Chief Engineer's presence, the former’s thoughts showing clear signs of distress. He’d chosen to dismiss suppositions, their mission to protect Pahvo way more important than some brief speculation.

 

But Stamets had been clear with Lorca. He had told him he couldn’t do it, the machines were not programmed for such a feat.

 

For one moment Saru had thought about their odds, about Stamets’ odds. With a blink of an eye and a touch on his screen he’d made his choice.

 

Pahvo had been the priority.

 

Saru pulled himself back to the present. The silence that stretched between them did nothing for Saru’s already restless mind. The only sound was the occasional echo of metal resonating through the turbolift as it moved rapidly towards the bridge.

 

Lorca slouched against his chair, feet tapping on the cold metal floor. 'For now we need to figure where the hell we are, since we can’t jump back to safety,' he said, gaze fixed on the door. 'I'm redirecting all power to the bridge until we stabilize the navigation system.'

 

The doors were open, and Lorca made his way out.

 

The Captain reclined back against his chair on the bridge, eyes only mildly alert as the crew worked on their stations. Passing orders to the crew, he remained impassive, only nodding and exchanging brief words of command whenever someone was more outspoken than acceptable in such a dire situation. He could frown only as the crew members realized what was, indeed, happening.

 

**— — — —**

 

Burnham could count precisely how many hours, minutes and seconds had passed since the unsuccessful jump.

 

She’d gone with Ash to look around the ship for signs of temporal disturbances, the latter insisting on tagging along. There were dozens of people wandering the hallways, all whispering to one another what were most likely assumptions of why the ship had halted. Her eyes were sharp, looking at the tricorder for any signs of abnormal readings.

 

At one corner the machine beeped rapidly, sensors showing some sort of fluctuation on the density of leptons. Burnham frowned, growing suspicious. She bent down and transferred the data to both her PADD and to Cadet Tilly’s station in engineering.

 

Burnham frowned, the usual onslaught of guilt looming over her mind. She’d been quick to realize their situation. She grit her teeth for a moment as she recalled the readings displayed by Saru back in the bridge. The sensors were as good as nothing, none of the data made a shred of sense. If the computer couldn’t pinpoint their location into one of the charted quadrants of the galaxy, it either meant technical failure, or they really were stranded somewhere in the vast unknown. Various theories crossed her mind, despite the fact that she was growing increasingly remorseful of such ideas. No… there had to be an alternative.

 

Burnham shook her head quickly, dashing towards the end of the hallway in search for more readings. Ash followed close behind, his stance unusually stiff. They’d exchanged a few clipped words as they made their way down in the turbolift. Ash opened and closed his mouth a few times, as if he was silently musing on the data Burnham was collecting.

 

'You're quiet,' Ash said, his words breaking the lingering silence.

 

She nodded distractedly at her tricorder, not looking up. 'These readings make as much sense as Saru’s. At first I was looking for a way to assess if there was any modification to the ship’s biosphere. The day we retrieved the spore drive from the Glenn we found deformed corpses stretched out on the floor, as if their molecular structure had been disarranged. This did not happen on our ship, not even on microscopical level,' she mulled, flat toned.

 

'What do you mean by that?' The tall man replied, lifting his shoulders to cross his arms in his signature stance.

 

'I mean that, if the Discovery had navigated off the charts through space as the computer indicates, it makes no sense that we are still alive. An incomplete navigation sequence was exactly what happened to the Glenn, and yet our ship is still somewhat intact.' Burnham’s frown deepened.

 

Ash took a moment to make sense of her words, science never being his forte. He shifted his weight on his feet. 'Perhaps Stamets managed to keep us steady past the breaking point. He could have finished the most crucial aspects of the navigation sequence.'

 

Momentary silence fell over them once more, before Burnham put her rapid-fire thoughts into words.

 

'It doesn’t work like that, a jump is either all or nothing. We should be in our initial location.' She looked at Ash, unsure. 'Using the spore drive is not like warping from one point to another. A warp factor is a mean of measuring speed. When we travel at warp we are moving across space, we traverse the path between us and our destination. A spore jump moves us to our target bypassing what is between. If Lieutenant Stamets had been unsuccessful then there would be no plausible way for the Discovery to withstand the displacement.'

 

Burnham took a few moments to think her words over, considering with regret what she had just said. They didn't have an answer, far from it. Yet, the clock was ticking. The Discovery had barely enough power to the bridge, meaning that if they were attacked, there would be no shields or weapons. If they couldn’t figure out where they were, or at least get enough power to the warp drive to ensure a mean of escape if the situation turned critical, their stunt at Pahvo would have been useless.

 

Ash shook his head, running a hand through his hair. 'We’re on lockdown until we restore power. Isn’t there any way we can access the jump’s logs and figure out the coordinates we were supposed to be going to?' He said, studying her features.

 

Burnham stood straigher. 'We could try to triangulate possible divergent trajectories from our coordinates at Pahvo to Starbase 46. It would take time, but it is our best shot,' She concluded, with a wave to her tricorder. 'It would still not explain these readings but if we made it back to federation space, then I could have enough time to dissect this further.'

 

Ash’s eyes met Burnham’s, both searching for resolve in each other.

 

They walked back into the turbolift. The talk dark haired man, face impassive, held open the door, silently motioning for Burnham to get in.

 

_"Engineering.”_

 

**— — — —**

 

 _'Engineering to medical, this is Cadet Sylvia Tilly. It's about Lieutenant Stamets. Patch me through to Doctor Culber,_ **_now._ **

 

The line went quiet for a long moment, Tilly’s raw words echoing through the spore chamber. She repeated herself into the communicator, the lack of response making her grimace. She regarded the screen before her with careful, methodical eyes.

 

**OVERRIDE: LORCA, G.-MARK-UNKNOWN**

 

It was not her problem, she tried to convince herself. By all means, this could be a misunderstanding. Stamets could have made a mistake himself, his brain overwhelmed by the strenuous succession of jumps. Tilly had other issues to focus on, she should be in the hallways looking for a way to help while the internal communications system was still down.

 

The redhead tugged her sleeves up. There was a bright path ahead of her. She had only just found her place on the DIscovery and was already working with experts that were on top of their fields. She had projects, goals, and what she was most proud of, _friendships_ on that ship.

 

The Cadet allowed herself a moment to hiss out air between her teeth. Stamets had trusted her. Tilly realized that she hadn’t noticed how fast they had grown close to each other (even though the Lieutenant’s definition of 'being close' varied greatly from hers). Despite his intentions of coming across as a self-centered genius, his actions spoke otherwise.

 

He was rude, prickly and overall a pain to deal with most of the time. But ultimately, she knew that the way he didn’t refuse her company, and offered himself to teach her a thing or two about his field during slow days spoke volumes. His access key was just a minor detail in the grand scheme of their working relationship.

 

The accusation she had on her hands was serious. It was not something to be taken lightly, it could ruin her dreams of a captaincy. Everything that she had built up until this point would be on the line. Was this spark of doubt worth sacrificing…everything?

 

The question seemed to disarm Tilly, her once tight grip on the communicator faltering. It was too much to digest, too overwhelming a situation to be dealt with alone. She considered her odds for a short moment. If the computer’s logs were accurate and the override was legitimate, there was no way she could keep such an information for herself.

 

Her eyes darted to the doors, as if she would find the answer hidden on the metal.

 

It became clear she would need help from a professional mutineer.

 

Tilly had barely stepped back out engineering when a few steps into the hallway, she bumped into a figure a few inches smaller, who had been staring decisively ahead. Concerned, she looked to reassure they were ok, when sudden realization washed over her face. 'Michael! Michael good, I-I’m so sorry but there is no time, you need to come with me to sickbay.'

 

The redhead was already on her feet, glancing over her shoulder as she doubled back.

 

'No Tilly, wait!' Burnham said loudly, her stance uncharacteristically desperate. Burnham reached for Tilly’s arm, holding her in place. 'We need to talk. In private,' she continued in a hushed tone. 'There is something going on and I need your help.'

 

**— — — —**

 

It was cold in sick bay. It always was.

 

Culber inched up in his seat, his fingers tightening around Stamets’ pale wrist. The lieutenant's pulse was faltering, and so was his breathing. There were a series of tubes attaching his frail figure to a life support machine, the readings eventually making a loud sound to alert the CMO. The past hour had been excruciating. Sha’rhil and her team hadn’t made any significant progress, and they all knew time was an essential component to the treatment of brain injuries. The Doctor pulled himself away from these thoughts. He couldn’t lose his focus, not at a time like this.

 

Culber had listened silently to the CMO’s words, eyes narrowed but focused on the body laying before him. Sha’rhil had dragged her lips up into a polite smile and repeated once more that they were doing everything possible.

 

He blanched in disbelief, but did not question her.

 

The Betazoid and her team had healed Stamets’ contusions as well as his subdural hematomas. That part had been easy. All the nurses had to do was to punch some sequences onto a tricorder and wave a regenerator around. Yet the chief engineer was still laying motionless, his skin a few shades paler than his already almost transparent complexion.

 

Stamets’ new CT scans were clean and sharp, the only sign of distress being the misshapen mass extending from his parietal lobe to his frontal lobe. Medical had decided to postpone further tests, opting to keep the lieutenant under observation during the night before resorting to cryostasis, so as to collect more data on his brain activity. Sha’rhil had finished tending to Stamets and retired to treat other patients, the shadow of her body falling over the pale man’s unmoving figure as she moved towards the exit.

 

Culber stood where she left, casting a grimace to the screen that displayed his lover’s life signs. They had Stamets hooked on life support for the moment, the erratic beeps emanating across the room a constant reminder of how his vitals were dangerously fluctuating.

 

Time passed.

 

The room was thick with a strong, sterile scent. The curtain that separated them from the lingering gazes of passersby had been opened to allow the medical team to survey Stamets’ condition, much to Culber’s dismay. The Doctor had gone quiet and still for a long stretch of time. He feel the scrutinizing stares directed to his crouched figure.

 

Culber checked on his lover’s readings. There had been a 26.9% drop on the oxygen intake rate in the past hour as well as a sudden lapse of junctional tachycardia, an abnormal heart rhythm. The machine kicked in, as expected, and did its job of keeping the lieutenant stable. But that did not mean, however, that Culber’s anxiety would cease anytime soon.

 

He shook his head, rubbing uncomfortably at the back of his neck. Soon enough it’d be time to rotate shifts. Culber had stayed, obviously, much to the medical team’s annoyance. He’d spent the entirety of Beta shift reading and scrutinizing every piece of record on brain injuries on the ship’s medical logs. Their window of opportunity was closing, and if they did not come up with a solution soon the consequences would be… unpredictable.

 

Minutes melted into hours, and soon enough it was time for the Beta crew to leave. A few minutes after 1200, a horde of doctors, dark eye bags standing in contrast to white, pristine uniforms, left the med bay.

 

Culber could hear Sha’rhil approaching before she appeared. She made sure to step heavily on the floor, so as to announce her arrival, a habit she had cultivated along her many years of dealing with couples. The doors were opened, but the air still seemed to move too slowly.

 

'How was the night?' The CMO held out her hand, silently motioning for Hugh to extend his. She had a small smile on her face, and a sad shadow of a what should’ve been an optimistic gaze.

 

“Nothing different from what you'd seen before leaving. A few drops in oxygen intake and some sharp fluctuations of heart rate. There was no more bleeding, thankfully. The nurses seem to have done a pretty good job with that.' Culber chewed on his inner cheek. 'There have been some drops in brain activity, however. At first we were reading slow delta waves on his cortex but for the past seven hours they have become more and more sparse. I don’t think we can risk wasting any more time,' he finished, hesitant.

 

There was a moment of silence before he looked up to meet Sha’rhil's eyes. She cast a frown to the PADD in her hands.

 

'We don’t know yet if that's related to the restructuring of his frontal lobe or to the traumas that we treated earlier.' Sha’rhil pointed out, chewing on her stylus. Culber could not find strength within him to reprimand her, like he’d done countless times before. 'The lab sent a new report while I was away, I think we need to…discuss our options.'

 

'What do you mean by that?' Culber asked softly, darting a suspicious look for her silence.

 

'You said it yourself. There is no time. We waited almost seven hours for improvement, and there has been none. If we keep him awake for longer we risk aggravating whatever damage is already in place. The report I got says his membrane potential has dropped below 40mV. The delta waves we analyzed have a frequency range of only 2Hz. For all that we know these are classic symptoms of unresponsive wakefulness syndrome.' Her eyes feel upon Stamets’ body. 'If there is a way of bringing him back, however hypothetical, we will only achieve this after studying whatever is going on in frontal lobe.'

 

The conversation dwindled. Sha’rhil was clearly trying not to stare at Culber, but the obvious weight of his apprehensiveness sucked her in.

 

She gestured at the screen hanging above Stamets’ bed, as if the motion would magically change the grim prospect of the man’s diagnosis. 'We…we lack the tech for this, Hugh. We know there is something off, but we can’t crack his skull open and poke around his brain like people used to do centuries ago. There’s not a single report in the history of Starfleet about restructuring of the frontal lobe. With time we could figure something out, but we need infrastructure. The Discovery was supposed to be a science vessel, not a war machine. Our sickbay isn't equipped for this sort of procedure. Hell, I don’t think a single ship on the fleet is.'

 

The CMO leaned back against a wall, suddenly aware of the toll trying to protect herself from the emotions emanating from Culber was taking on her.

_anger-resolve-hope-pain-longing-regret-anger-pain-pain-pain-pa-_

 

Culber’s voice sounded strained as he spoke. 'Well, is there one available?'

 

Sha’rhil’s expression turned soft, dissolving the frowns that had clad her face only seconds before. A wave of unfeeling, almost anesthetizing sorrow flooded her mind. She scowled, her voice gentle when she replied, 'I asked for the nurse to get one ready last night, just in case.'

 

Hugh made no verbal answer. He reached for Stamets’ hand, squeezing it with the last shreds of strength in his body.

 

'Nurse, please bring in Cryotube 14. We’ll need assistance.'

 

**— — — —**

 

The redhead didn’t think twice before pulling Burnham into engineering, swiftly locking the door with Stamets' override. Lieutenant Tyler reached for Tilly's arm, his instincts kicking in. He faltered, however, when Tilly flinched and her eyes looked to Burnham for help.

 

How come this man was questioning her like that? Had he assumed she, of all people on this ship, was seriously intending to harm Burnham. Burnham, the only person who thoroughly believed in her? Had everyone gone mad while she was mourning over Stamets?

 

'Let her go, Lieutenant. Cadet Tilly would never hurt a fly, and she certainly would not diverge our attention unless for something important.' Burnham said pointedly, her eyebrows giving Tilly a cue to spill whatever was so pressing for the cadet physically lure her into the newly unwelcoming hallways that lead to the spore drive.

 

In silence that followed, Ash nodded, his expression heavy. 'I’m sorry, Cadet. With what has been going on for the past few hours we are still….wary of our environment.' The sentence seemed to calm Tilly for a split second, but it resonated far differently with Burnham.

 

Burnham knew he wasn’t solemnly attempting to excuse his fight-or-flight urge for it could be seen as inappropriate behavior. Her mind went back to their last night at his quarters, the memory of Ash’s tear tracks stinging as if his confession had just been poured again on her ears. Burnham hoped that somehow, her rage could be translated into physical agony towards a certain pointy-headed figure confined to the brig.

 

She dragged herself back to the present to the sound of Tilly’s shaky voice saying 'Michael, you need to listen, there is no time.' There was a hint of stutter in her once precise pronunciation. 'I need to show you something on Stamets’ computer.'

 

Burnham was confused. She stared back at Tilly, waiting for the cadet to finish.

 

'Let me show you, please.' Tilly repeated.

 

Burnham nodded, following Tilly down the stairs.

 

Ash watched for a second, before following them.

 

Tilly sat down and took Stamets’ keyboard, looking wired as ever. She sucked on the corner of her mouth, leaning on the station as her back could no longer keep itself straight. She inhaled through her nostrils, skimming her eyes through the wide variety of files stacked into Stamets’ personal folders.

 

'Ok, so I’m sure you are both aware that our intended coordinates were at Starbase 46, right?'

 

'Yes' Burnham agreed, trying to keep track of Tilly’s movements on the keyboard. The science specialist's voice was flat-toned.

 

'Now, what the computer should’ve tried to compute were the coordinates 132 : 071— Mark 696, as indicated by Starfleet’s map of the quadrant-' her once weary motions were now transforming into what could be only described as mild flailing, 'However, as I tried to access the ship’s spore drive logs to check, they were checked as classified. I had to use Stamets' access key to get a hold of them, and when I finally did, this particular code stood out.' Tilly paused, nodding at the glowing yellow letters that spelled out Lorca's override.

 

Her words lingered in the air. Ash's breathing turned heavy as he chewed on his lips. His eyes traveled between Tilly and Burnham, waiting for the pair to make sense of what was written.

 

Burnham chewed on her inner cheek, her eyebrows just as restless. She realised she had been drumming her fingers on the table, the metallic clicks echoing through the now piercing silence. Her eyes skimmed through the log one final time, wondering if she stared at it for long enough, the words would magically spell something else.

 

'What are we looking at?' asked Ash. He stepped closer to the screen, directing a scrutinizing gaze towards it.

 

Burnham swallowed the impulse to retort. She sighed inwardly, crossing her arms. The science specialist had been aboard the Discovery for more than half a year now. There had been hiccups, pushbacks. A nagging feeling that she was sticking her nose where she didn't belong.

 

But... Lorca had took her in, quite literally.

 

His mannerisms and manipulative undertones hadn't gone unnoticed. Yet, their endgame was to win the war, and nothing else. She was aboard this vessel for a reason: To honour Philippa's life.

 

And death.

 

Captain Gabriel Lorca had come into her life unexpectedly. The embodiment of the other end of the moral spectrum. He was brash, ruthless and willing to go further than ever in search for a mean to undercut the horrors the Klingon Empire so thoroughly pursued. Burnham kept a respectful distance from him, fully aware that while they had a common end goal, their methods were wildly different. The trust she deposited in him was ultimately nurtured by the opportunities the Discovery had given her. It was impossible to not care, or to see her borrowed time in the ship with solemnly utilitarian eyes. She and the captain could be polar opposites, but what he had given her was more than a ticket out of a life sentence, however briefly.

 

Her eyes darted to Ash's stiff stance. She tried, and failed, to look unfazed.

 

'I believe these records show that the Captain may have interfered with the spore jumps. His override coincides with the time of the incomplete navigation sequence input. What Tilly is showing is that-’

 

'This wasn't Stamets' fault,’ Tilly said from her chair, her voice thick with uncharacteristic resolve. 'The override came from the Captain's chair. I was here with other officers when Stamets collapsed. He is the only one who has access to the subroutine that allows changes to the navigation sequences.'

 

'But why would the captain even consider doing that?' Ash retorted, taking one step closer to Burnham.

 

'I have no idea,' Tilly swallowed, 'But there is no other explanation. None of the superior officers have access to the override, not even Saru. The chair’s control pad is biometry locked, even if someone else had gotten hold of the code they would need to chop the captain's thumb off to input it.'

 

'Someone could have done it within the system, by bypassing the security protocols,' Burnham noted, vaguely puzzled as she sensed her alternatives were phasing out.

 

'I’ve checked the firewall multiple times. There are no signs of anomalies.' Tilly sighed, looking at the floor. 'Michael, I don’t know what is going on here either. I don’t understand, I’m confused and I need help to make sense of this.'

 

They fell into a silence once more. Ash pinched his forehead, his resolve finally faltering.

 

'We need to find Stamets. He’s the only person who has more of an insight on this than your computer.'

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How are you all doing? Thank you for the comments, they make my soul thrive. Hope you enjoyed this chapter! More coming soon. 
> 
> I - Since some of you asked me, the CMO's name is a nod to the  Star Wars Kinect game and its very random choice of characters.
> 
> II - Tilly defending Paul makes my garden flourish.
> 
> III - Science in this chapter is.. very creative (hooray for euphemisms). However, I did try to make it seem acceptable, I'm very sorry for the biology majors out there
> 
> IV - Hmmm so in the next chapter we'll be seeing Hugh being a bamf, I've been having tons of fun with that concept. Can't wait to share !! 
> 
> V - feel free to yell at me on social media, [tilly voice] I talk a lot. I'm on twitter and tumblr
> 
>  as usual, huge thanks to my beta for putting up with me. I can't thank thank you enough jim jam! you're a miracle worker and I'm very proud of my 'tropical fish' title
> 
> [//disco spoilers, in case some of you haven't seen the new episode yet//] 
> 
> Episode 10 was.....quite something, to say the least. I confess I look forward to whatever explanation they will throw at us, because as of right now I am still a little in shock. I know Hugh will be coming back, but that still doesn't make his death any less painful. Boy, that hurt.


End file.
